


Stuck in the Middle with You

by Skullharvester



Series: One-Shots (Baldur's Gate 3) [6]
Category: Baldur's Gate, Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types, baldur's gate 3
Genre: One-Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29060256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skullharvester/pseuds/Skullharvester
Summary: At the start of his adventure, Astarion encounters one of his master's pet flunkies shortly after discovering newfound freedom.  That would be his luck, wouldn't it?
Series: One-Shots (Baldur's Gate 3) [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2120211
Kudos: 6





	Stuck in the Middle with You

**Author's Note:**

> I've been playing more of my current game save involving my tiefling OC Dobrogost, and while I've been writing up A Night at the Oasis as the "new canon" for the background of that character, it occurred to me that this is probably how a playthrough with him as the main character would play out.
> 
> This is just a one-shot I did as a writing warm-up, but maybe I'll do more with it once the full game comes out. The idea entertained me, so I wanted to get at least an introductory bit down as a reminder for myself when full launch happens.
> 
> Enjoy and have fun!
> 
> If you liked this tale, please drop me a kudos and/or a comment to let me know if you'd like to see more!
> 
> Thank you, and have a wonderful night!

* * *

* * *

One moment, the vampire spawn called Astarion was leading some poor nobleman in Baldur’s Gate to his doom—to unwittingly be dined upon by his master, Cazador Szarr—and now he suddenly found himself basking in the sun, yet he was totally unharmed, with Cazador nowhere to be seen.

He was free. Thank the gods! After two hundred years of torture, freedom was finally his! All it took was to be mysteriously kidnapped by mind flayers, of all things. Mind flayers! In Baldur’s Gate!

If this had been a dream too good to be believed, it was quickly becoming a nightmare too real to be fake, for as he began strutting along the beach, triumphantly taking in the crisp, salty air and the warm sunlight, he heard a familiar voice humming a tune. It wasn’t Cazador; Cazador was a dour man who rarely ever smiled, unless it was a wicked grin. Rather, it was his newest lapdog. His lover. _The tiefling_. Lord Dobrogost Bludov, the opera singer from the Oasis theater in Little Calimshan.

Astarion had to do something quickly. If Dobrogost was here, he was probably somewhere on the ship. If he was somewhere on the ship, he no doubt knew that Astarion had been kidnapped, too. And if he knew that, he was most certainly going to drag him back to Cazador. Astarion couldn’t let that happen. He would never, ever return to his master’s clutches without a fight.

That was what he was going to have to do, wasn’t it? Fight. He was going to have to fight that massive, nearly eight-foot tall, horned bully that practically sat at Cazador’s feet like a guard dog most hours of the night, ever-so-eager to please his master and rip open anyone who threatened him even remotely. And the only weapon Astarion had on hand was his pitiful little hunting dagger, since his teeth—by some magic—were not permitted to pierce the flesh of thinking creatures…

But he had to try. He _refused_ to go back to Cazador, so he ducked down into the bushes and waited for the tiefling to pass by. Then, when the melody being hummed got further away from Astarion’s current position, he ran up behind the hulking singer and leaped with all of his might to reach an arm around his thick neck. Dobrogost made a choking noise when the arm tightened its grip and Astarion clung to his back with his legs before holding the dagger to his throat.

If Dobrogost couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t sing, and if he couldn’t sing, he couldn’t cast any necromantic spells that might subdue the vampire spawn. In Astarion’s mind, the tiefling was as good as dead. He had him exactly where he wanted him.

He didn’t anticipate that Dobrogost would throw his arm back and punch him in the face, sending him tumbling into the sandy soil and brush. Astarion panicked; it was over for him. His brave gambit had failed, and all he could do now was hop back to his feet and crouch low with his dagger held up as a pathetic deterrent to someone twice his mass.

Dobrogost turned around to face him and laughed mirthfully with his hands placed on his rotund belly. His terrifying tattooed face had softened, giving the illusion that he was some gentle giant. “Astarion! I didn’t realize that it was you! Playful scamp. What are you doing out here, eh? Did you board that ship to try and rescue me or something? How sweet! I thought you might have hated me.”

Astarion was utterly dumbfounded, blinking his eyes with his guard—and his dagger—now lowered. “You…didn’t see me on the ship?”

“Nah, I was in a hurry to get _off_ the damned thing!” the tiefling said, hands on his hips and tail curling animatedly. “But I’m glad to see that I won’t have to make the journey back to Baldur’s Gate alone! It would have been pretty boring otherwise.” He walked closer, beckoning Astarion with his hand. “Come, my friend. We need to get back to Cazador before he gets worried sick about where we’ve gone!”

What a joke. What a cruel, cruel joke. It was like fate itself had been designed by Cazador himself. Astarion let his gut instincts take control once again, and in his paranoia, stumbled into deeper trouble than he was in to begin with. He should have simply scampered off when he saw the tiefling approach, but he let his fear take control and assumed the worst-case scenario. There was no getting out of this now; he was trapped with his master’s most earnestly loyal pawn.

“Ri-Right, of course!” Astarion blurted out, sheathing his dagger to bow humbly before the devilish man. “Lead on!”

_It’s alright, Astarion_ , the elf reasoned internally. _You’ll get another chance to be rid of him, surely. You just have to be patient and wait for the right time…_

A sharp, spontaneous pain in his head made Astarion wince in agony, and apparently, Dobrogost felt it, too.

The tiefling massaged his forehead, then looked back at Astarion quizzically. “Did you say something just now?”

Horror plastered over the vampire spawn’s face. There wasn’t much to be said about Dobrogost’s inner monologue—he was a simple man that troubled himself with few things when he could help it—but in that fleeting moment of pain, Astarion read his thoughts. Dobrogost must have read his own in turn.

“No, no. You must be hearing things,” Astarion stammered. He waved a hand above his head. “You must still be delirious from what happened on the ship. Whatever those tentacled freaks were doing, they were messing with our heads.”

“Ah, so I’m _not_ crazy, then.” Dobrogost crossed his arms and nodded, accepting the logical explanation.

Astarion couldn’t hold his tongue on the opportunity to deliver one of his customary playful jabs. “Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about _that_ , but you’re not crazy in _this_ particular instance, Lord Bludov.”

Unlike Cazador, Dobrogost took delight in Astarion’s jokes and puckish nature, and the vampire spawn discovered that he could exploit this to manipulate the dim-witted performer into unknowingly doing his bidding on occasion. Without Cazador here to tug Dobrogost’s will in the opposite direction and to prevent him from being duped by his spawn’s schemes, perhaps this whole arrangement _would_ work out to Astarion’s benefit.

“Hopefully, the headaches will pass. I already have too many aches and pains as it is,” Dobrogost grumbled, and with that, he walked through the rubble of the crashed mind flayer ship with Astarion in search of some semblance of civilization.

“Hey, Astarion, how is it that you haven’t combusted into a ball of flame right now? Isn’t that a thing that happens when a vampire goes out in the middle of daytime?” Dobrogost asked along the way.

Astarion shrugged. “Beats me.”

“Huh… Strange.”

“Very, but let’s focus on more _important_ tasks, such as figuring out where we are and how far away Baldur’s Gate is from here.”

“Good idea. Now I see why you’re Cazzy’s favorite; you’re very resourceful.”

Astarion glowered at the well-intended compliment.

The thought of inching closer and closer back to Cazador with every step taken rattled Astarion to the bone, but now he had a rough idea of a plan in mind. He wasn’t sure how and he wasn’t sure when, but when he reunited with his master, he was going to ensure that, by then, he had the means to overtake him.

Something in his head was already telling him that soon—very soon—thanks to whatever it was the mind flayers did to him on the ship, he was going to be stronger than he’d ever been before.

He was going to become more than just free: he was going to become the most powerful vampire in all the realms.

Cazador was going to regret binding Astarion to his will for so many years, and if Dobrogost couldn’t be persuaded to stand down when the time came, he would fall, too.

No one was going to control Astarion ever again, or so he thought.

**Author's Note:**

> "Clowns to the left of me! Jokers to the right! Here I am stuck in the middle with you."
> 
> Recommended Listening: Stuck in the Middle with You by Stealers Wheel


End file.
